


putting out the fire

by Splatx



Series: Kinktober 2020 [10]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: "Oral Knotting", Accidental Knotting, Accidental oral knotting, Alpha John, Alpha John Marston, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, F/M, Female Reader, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Kinktober2020, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Reader, Oral Knotting, Replaced Prompt, Virginity, Young John Marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26962492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splatx/pseuds/Splatx
Summary: Kinktober 2020, #12: "Oral Knotting"But both of you know better, havejust enoughself control to keep from making such a dumb mistake - though both of you are thinkingmaybe next time, maybe we can sneak into town and find that tea…- so you’re kneeling between his legs, the man having scooted down enough to dangle his hips off the bed. It had taken some finagling - while he was mostly healed, his side still stung if he moved wrong - but finally you’d managed to get as comfortable as you could get, finding yourself taking a long moment to rest your head against his inner thigh, gulping down the taste ofarousal-Alpha-needthat poured off of him in waves.
Relationships: John Marston/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947451
Kudos: 55
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	putting out the fire

Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur had all, on their own time and without knowing the others had already done so, put the fear of god into John if he’d dared to touch you during a Heat.

The gang was in no position to be tending to a pregnant Omega or caring for pups, and even if they were, at eighteen and nineteen neither of you were old enough to be parents.

  
  


But god, if Heating didn’t hurt. Your fingers could help, could take the edge off of it, but they could only do so much, could only help that little bit - you needed an _Alpha,_ needed an Alpha’s seed to soothe the _burning,_ to make it _stop,_ to lessen the fever until your joints stopped screaming and your mouth stopped being dry, until you weren’t panting for your breath and gulping down all the water you could get your hands on, trying to fix your dehydration from producing sweat and _so much slick._

You understand why, of course. Why they lock you up in a barn come your heat, or in a nearby cabin. Drag you into the nearest town and, though you feel guilty for it, spend the money for a Heat-room at the hotel, Arthur or Dutch standing guard while Hosea sniffs around for leads - if any Alpha gets a wild hair, they’ll have an easier time getting through the Beta than through the Alphas, though he’s loathe to admit it.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t _hurt._ That you don’t burn for John during your Heats, don’t sob his name and imagine that it’s his fingers, his cock, inside of you, not your fingers, that you don’t cry out for him though he’s always kept well away, brought out on jobs or kept in camp if you’re taken into town.

  
  


But this time John’s taken a bullet to the side, and is confined to bed. You’ve been locked in a cabin nearby, food and water left out, and they feel safe enough making a trip half a day’s ride from camp to rob a wagon train.

Naturally, John is shaking himself apart beneath you.

  
  


He wants nothing more than to surge up and pin you down, tear your pants off and throw them across the room and fuck you into next week. Knot you over and over and over until you’re swollen with his cum, fucked out and bliss-drunk beneath him.

And you want the same, want to strip and climb on top of him and impale your cunt, soaking your pants with slick, on him, grind and rise and fuck until you feel your first ever knot stretch you, until your Heat is sated with his seed.

But both of you know better, have _just enough_ self control to keep from making such a dumb mistake - though both of you are thinking _maybe next time, maybe we can sneak into town and find that tea…_ \- so you’re kneeling between his legs, the man having scooted down enough to dangle his hips off the bed. It had taken some finagling - while he's mostly healed, his side still stings if he moves wrong - but finally you manage to get as comfortable as you can get, finding yourself taking a long moment to rest your head against his inner thigh, gulping down the taste of _arousal-Alpha-need_ that pours off of him in waves.

  
  


His pants are… somewhere. Probably across the room. You’ve fastened your belt tight, hands shaking violently - a deterrent to keep you from doing something stupid. Just some cum, that’s all you need. This is the worst Heat you’ve ever had, your head is spinning and your mouth is so dry you’re panting, tongue practically dangling out of your mouth, and if it’ll just _take the goddamned edge off_ then spending the better part of an hour picking the lock will all be worth it.

Even without being touched, his cock is sticking straight up in the air, throbbing and splattering his stomach with pre-cum. The tip is growing darker and darker with his need, nearly purple, and his fists clench in the blankets, _god_ but he needs you.

You sit up, shuffling closer on your knees, resting your hands on his thighs - the sensitive skin twitches, and he shivers - to keep your balance as you lean forward and flick your tongue across his cock-head.

The sound he makes is pure desperation, head slamming back onto the bed. _“Fuck!”_

_Hell,_ but he tastes good. If you were out of Heat he wouldn’t taste half so good but the salty-musk is, at the moment, the most wonderful taste in the world. You lap at him again, a funny sound escaping your chest when he throbs, splattering your face with pre-cum, reaching up and rubbing your face clean before, not wanting to waste (already, some of the edge is being taken off), you lick your hand clean.

He makes an absolutely pathetic sound. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You stretch up and, with a deep breath, take his cockhead in your mouth.

He sobs.

  
  


It’s a strange weight on your tongue, and you’re not quite sure whether you like it or not. You _know,_ though, that you very much like the taste, the way he twitches and spills drops of pre-cum onto your tongue, and you lean forward to take more of him in, basking in the way he moans.

He’s like silk, and you _definitely_ like it. Squishy at the head - you flick your tongue across that, find your mouth watering at the taste of his pre-cum that he constantly leaks - and stiff and rather hard come his shaft that you, slowly, take into your mouth. It’s _odd,_ you’ve never done anything like it, but rather appealing and, from the way he whines and whimpers and groans above you, he very much enjoys it.

You swallow around him and he bucks, fucking down to the soft skin of his knot-sheath.

Your eyes widen and you retch, jerking back. He babbles apologies, breathless, and pleased, and you slowly take him into your mouth again as deep as you can, closing your eyes and basking at the taste of him, splattering onto your tongue. You swallow convulsively - oh, your Heat is hurting less and less, though you find that you’ve been fucking into the air, seeking friction - and lean forward, taking as much of him down as you can.

He whines, tries to lean forward and hisses his pain, drops back down and settles for clenching his fists so tight in the blankets you hear the stitches pop.

You take him to the root - his knot-sheath soft on your tongue - and he’s dripping down your throat like a faucet, and god if that’s not the most wonderful thing. You swallow over and over, suckling him desperately even as you rub your thighs together, sure you’ve ruined your pants with your slick at this point - though your Heat doesn’t burn half as much it still _burns,_ pre-cum can only do so much and the _arousal-Alpha_ in the air has long gotten to you.

The massive vein on the side of his cock begins to throb - he gives a strangle gasp of your name - and you try to pull back, having intended on only taking the head when he came, squeezing the knot to take pity on him because an untouched knot _hurts,_ but then he's convulsing, yelling his pleasure-pain, slamming his cock down your throat hard enough that you gag and your eyes water, and though you try to brace your hands against his thighs and pull away his knot swells, only needs to swell a bit before it's too big to be pulled out from between your teeth, and then he is well and good stuck.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he pants above you, and then you’re _panicking_ because he’s _still swelling_ and you hadn’t realized just how big an Alpha’s knot _is,_ the book Dutch and Hosea had awkwardly taught you from when you presented had _not_ been to scale apparently, your jaw is creaking and it _fucking hurts_ and you whine, long and pitiful and _help-Omega-scared_ and he reaches down despite the pain in his side, runs his fingers through your hair and pants “Shit, I’m so sorry oh my god, shit are you okay?”

and _no_ you’re _not okay_ there’s a fucking _baseball sized knot_ in your mouth and _you can’t breathe_ and you whine, pathetic and pleading, and he props himself up though he blanches with pain, face still twisted with pleasure because his cock is _still throbbing,_ pouring ropes of cum down your throat and _jesus_ but he tastes good and the one good thing about all of this is that your Heat has been soothed to little more than an itch.

“S’okay,” he pants, running fingers through your hair, sliding them down to cradle your chin, pupils blowing even wider because _jesus_ your cheeks are blown out with his knot, mouth hanging open and if distress wasn’t strong in the air this would be the fucking sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

Not that he’s seen a lot of sexy things.

But he’s going to be seeing this in his dreams.

  
  


You try to breathe in, cough, and cum splatters out from around his knot, drips from your nose and God help him but he _whines,_ cusses and apologizes, curls in on himself (his side screams) and kisses your forehead soothingly, murmuring and instructing you to breathe, unable to help the tiny little bucks of his hips that splatters his cum along the inside of your throat, that shoves his knot along your tongue.

Slowly, though, it stops hurting. His cum numbs the inside of your throat and, as time passes, his knot slowly, slowly, _slowly_ deflates until he can pull out, splattering cum all down your front and on the floor - fuck, he’s going to have to clean that, isn’t he? - and you only make more of a mess when you double over, coughing violently, resting your forehead against his thigh. “Shit,” he pants, scratching at your scalp and trying to give off feelings of _soothing-Alpha-calm,_ “you okay?”

Despite everything, you nod.


End file.
